Ididworry, but I still went. What choice did I have?
Only once I’d boarded a stagecoach alone with the man did I realize what he likely had in mind for his reward. Either a letting go of my sacred privacy, or...
“Some even ... placebets. You do understand my meaning, don’t you?”
16
You’re so tense.” Jack Dorian lounged against the rear-facing seat of the nearly empty stagecoach, arms propped against the buttoned seat back. The heavy jangling of the matched pairs pulling the coach nearly drowned out his voice.
“I’m not accustomed to riding alone with a man.” Truth be told, I felt trapped inside this coach with his extraordinary presence taking up all the space. How alive he was, with that dark blond hair, playful eyes, and nostrils that flared with the least provocation. His quick smile carved dimples on either side of his mouth, and suddenly I didn’t know where to look. I was sorry I’d removed my veil and hat, so he could see the unease on my face.
“You seem tense so often, though.”
I forced my gaze to the door handle beside me. “Always around you, come to think of it.” The man did make me brazen.
He leaned forward into my space, his knees nearly bumping mine as he narrowed his bright eyes. “Make you nervous, do I?”
I could see the smooth curve of his lips, the dark goldeneyebrows that made a statement with every twitch. “Uneasy, I would say.”
His grin widened, as if this amused him.
My shields rose higher and firmer. He planned to wheedle a kiss from me, and I couldn’t forget it. This was one bet he’d lose.
“You needn’t worry, I’m a gentleman in every manner of speaking. Why, my mother—a fine silk heiress from Chelsea, mind you—would turn up her nose at the very idea of my doing anything untoward.”
“You can stop that, you know. You aren’t impressing anyone.”
“Aren’t I?” He flashed that knowing smile. The coach bumped and jostled as it left the bricked streets of London and lurched onto a rutted rural road. I clung to the handle by the door as if I were careening over the edge of a waterfall to unknown depths below, but he took it all in stride, his legs braced against the sides of the coach. He must have made this trip plenty of times before.
“Where are you taking us? Have you some brilliant ballet master hidden away out here in this wasteland?”
His mouth twitched up. “Still sore about the tumble last night, are you?”
I straightened against the leather seat until I felt it in the arch of my back. “I’ve never done such a thing before. I shouldn’t have let it happen.” Why must he poke at me?
“And no doubt you’re determined it’ll never happen again. More practice, more late nights, more striving, more exacting rules to follow.”
“Or as you call them, ‘guidelines.’”
“Precisely. Rules are a worthy fence to keep you driving onthe road, but as a destination, perfection is unreachable. Why tire yourself so?”
I closed my eyes. “‘The law of the LORDis perfect, restoring the soul: the testimony of the LORDis sure, making wise the simple.’ Psalm 19:7.’” Even stating those words aloud balmed my soul. It had been so long. “That’s why.” They were something to which I could cling, no matter what men like Jack thought of me, or what became of my dancing. “I refuse to lower my standards—in any matter.” When all else failed, God would not.
His eyes danced. “I’m not asking you to lower them, love. Just change them a bit. Go from Charde to Devonnier.”
“Who?”
He sighed. “Very well, how about Proverbs to the Psalms? Rules to raw emotion.”
I frowned. “Youknow the Bible?”
“As I do many other over-read ancient texts. Begging your pardon, being one of its most ardent devotees.”
My stomach soured. “I assume you do not—”
“Put much stock in religion? No. Sorry to disappoint the resident nun.”
“Well, then. I suppose that explains your disdain for rules.” And why I could disregard most of his advice.
